you just know
by ribbonelle
Summary: Eridan and Dirk are roomies. Eridan likes to get out and go clubbing. He comes back with new marks every night. Dirk isn't the kind who cares. As long as Eridan pays the rent, he's cool with it. But he knows that he's not a man with a stone heart in the end, after all.


_could you do something where Eridan and Dirk are roomies together in a college AU? (__)_

Your name is Dirk Strider and you are twenty-years old. You are currently majoring in mechanical engineering and taking a minor in film studies. You are what people would consider good-looking, though the pointed shades that never leave your face are taken as eccentric for some people; they all do still agree that you are one fine motherfucker. You have a fairly normal schedule. Class in the morning, ninjutsu classes in the evening on Mondays and Thursdays, kendo classes on Tuesdays and Wednesdays, and you're free from Friday evening till Sunday. You'd usually fill up those empty slots with social interaction, things of leisure and basically everything a guy your age would be up to in their free time.

This does not apply to your roommate, namely, the pompous and obnoxious male called Eridan Ampora. You have a roommate, of course. You'd rather have your solitude and the place all for yourself but sometimes a guy needs someone to chip in for the rent, it's easier, plus all the basic furniture in the room is set for two. You didn't mind having another guy in the room. As long as he doesn't mess with your stuff.

The moment you set eyes on Eridan Ampora, you aren't sure whether you've made a horrible mistake or you've made the best decision in your life. He came up to your room with two carrier bags, his scarf half undone, and the purple streak in his hair messed up. When you opened the door for him, he stands up straight, runs his fingers through the hair like he was in a fucking photo shoot, shook your hand, and states his name like he's the best damn thing out here. He probably thinks he is.

It didn't take the two of you long to make peace and get to know each other as much as was necessary. He's in history and theatrics, which is a little impressive considering what your first impression of him was, but overall he isn't a bad egg. He does, however, wear pants as tight as a saran wrapped Thanksgiving turkey leftover after the big dinner, and has an ego big as motherfucking Jupiter herself. He stutters his Ws and his Vs sounds like Ws (you'll never understand why) and wears too many rings, likes to pop his hips in front of the mirror without a care in the world and you like him. You could end up with worse roommates, and he doesn't mess with you, so you're good.

The third day of him living with you, and after you've decided that he's fit enough to be a long term roommate, you made him sit down and laid out all the rules of the house. Typical rules for two guys sharing a room. All except for one, of course. You made him promise that the two of you would never have an intimate relationship. Never get that personal with each other, never surpass the boundary of friends, no matter how close you two got. Not even fuck buddies. It would mess with our lives, you explain to him, it wouldn't be easy living with someone you're screwing. He scoffs at you, telling you you're not even his type. A few more minutes of arguing about the type of body he prefers, he shakes your hand and agrees to the promise. You like Eridan. He gets you and doesn't complain much about anything you come up with. Almost the perfect roommate. And then some.

It's not going to turn out so bad. You could safely assure yourself that you know that. You just know.

Sometimes he doesn't come back to your room. This is one of those nights. You realize his little habit of going out at nights after a month, sometimes even sneaking out as if you'd give two fucks about where he goes and what he does. He'll return really late in the night, and the first few times you were asleep, and too drowsy to ask any questions. Then one time you notice him getting even more dolled up than usual, looking like some classy whore, going out with an extra skip to his steps. You're sure he has a romantic partner somewhere.

You stay up late that night, working on a script from your film class and he comes back, the skip to his step gone, the flush to his features drained away completely. His lips are swollen, and he looks utterly roughed up you're sure something bad had happened, something horrible, but then he looks at you and he grins, quirking an eyebrow, "And wwhy the fuck aren't you sleepin', Dirk?"

"Script. Are you ok?"

"Okay? Hell, I'm as okay as I alwways am. Jeez, wwhat's wwith the sudden questions, mom."

Nothing seems wrong but it's evident someone has had their way with Eridan, and you are concerned.

It isn't the last time he comes back looking like that. Eventually you get used to it, knowing what whatever was happening, it's definitely consensual. Sometimes he comes back in a good mood, all smiles and laughter as he teases you and your habit of holding onto Cal when you read about electronics, and chat with you for a moment or two before passing out on his bed. Sometimes he comes back absolutely furious, his face red with anger, his movements violent and aggressive, locking himself in the bathroom for hours at end before he goes to sleep, tired out by his personal wrath. But his default state is the one with the swollen lips, his face would be weary from whatever events he went through, and more often than not there are stains of black lipstick on his clothes. His eyes, to you, are terribly empty.

The first time you pull him into a hug after he comes back looking like that, this time black lipstick smeared over his cheeks and neck, he hugs you back loosely, half clinging onto you. When you lean away, you notice his eyes aren't too empty anymore.

He never comes back with black lipstick anywhere on him, ever again.

You don't have many people over to your room, except for the occasional stress-relief fuck, of course. You'll always loop your orange tie over the doorknob so Eridan wouldn't have to come in and see your bare ass under the sheets with some other stranger. He doesn't complain much the first few times he had to wait till you were done, going to the café for a drink or hanging out with that Vantas boy he talks about often.

Two weeks after the night that you hugged Eridan, you had some nice guy from Sport Sciences over and you fucked him in your bed. The moment you open the door to let him out, Eridan barges in and gives you and that guy a death glare, a whirlwind of purple ducking under your arm and entering your room, going straight into the bathroom. Jake leaves right then, a little uncomfortable by the look Eridan gave him, and after you close the door behind Jake, you wait for Eridan to get out of his sanctuary, arms folded.

He does soon enough, eyes flicking up a little due to your height difference, still looking pissed. "What the fuck is your problem." You state out, and he opens his mouth to retort. "My _problem_ is that you're-."

It was like watching a fish gulping for air, how he wanted to speak but then decided not to. You could see exactly what is going through his mind and its sad how you're able to read him like an open book.

Eridan reels back, shaking his head. "Nothin'. Wwas just a little out a it, forget it. I'm going out again." You don't stop him. He doesn't come back that night.

You know that he was thinking about the pact you made with him. You know he knew he wasn't supposed to care about who you sleep with. You just know.

You are drifting off to sleep when you hear scrabbling at your door, frantic sounds of a key being inserted into the lock and it opens and closes just as fast, the slamming waking you up completely. A few moments, and there's loud knocking, angry, muffled shouts from outside. " You fucking _whore._ Get back out here and fucking talk to me!"

"Go away Sol! We're done wwith!" Eridan yells right back, and you couldn't help but sit up and watch him push at the door as if it made any difference. More angry shouting and you hear someone slam against the door, exactly like a body being forced against it. Eridan whimpers and you're already at his side, touching his shoulder, turning the doorknob.

Sollux Captor, one of Eridan's new boyfriends. Smart, lisping kid in Comp. Sci, and he's practically seething in front of your room, real fury in his eyes. "Get him out here."

"And why would I do that?"

"Becauthe I fucking thaid tho! Eridan!" Sollux tries to wedge a bony arm between you and the door, and all it resulted in was you grabbing the bastard by the wrist and you _twist, _making him howl in pain. You wouldn't usually go for something physical but the look in Captor's eyes weren't just rage. Give him a gun and he'd shoot someone.

"WHAT THE FUCK," he screams in your face, but you push him away from the door and take off your shades, showing him how fucking serious you are. "Try that again and I'll break your hand. It's night, and I don't want security to show up asking what the hell happened and bring us in for questioning so you go home, and talk to him tomorrow. When your head is in the right fucking place. You hear me?"

His chest heaves with seething rage but he nods, before spitting onto the ground and he walks away. You watch him go down the stairs and leave the compound before you close the door, locking it. Eridan's nowhere to be seen just yet. The bathroom, of course. You wait for him to get out, just like before, but this time when he comes out he has the weariest expression you have ever seen on his face. It pulls at the heartstrings, in some twisted way.

"You alright?" You ask and his mouth curves up a little, "Nope. Better noww I'm free again, though."

"You always mix in with the wrong people."

"I like bad boys. Bad girls. They're all great in my book."

"You're a fucking idiot, Eridan."

He chuckles at that, rubbing at his eyes, "You knoww best Dirk. You'd knoww."

He sleeps with you afterwards. Curled up in your bed, forgetting how fucked up he thinks Lil Cal is and hugging the little man like he's a cuddletoy. You watch him sleep for a while, not that you have any explanation for it. You blame it on your voyeuristic tendencies though this wasn't anywhere near sexual, but you're still watching his shoulders and ribs lift up slightly with his breathing, how calm he looked when his face was void of expression. Or this could be just you making an excuse about wanting to just see him sleep.

This time, you don't really know.

Eridan comes back drunk off his ass tonight, terribly wasted and he reeks of women's cologne and alcohol. You help him inside, messing his hair on purpose as he gets into the bathroom, giggling and mumbling about you being his Prince Charming. You tell him if there's anyone who's a prince, it's him. You call him a doucheprince and he laughs, grasping at your shoulder as the toothpaste on his half-raised toothbrush drops onto the ceramic of the sink.

He moves to your bunk bed and instead of climbing, he flops down right onto yours, arms circling around Cal like he's used to it. "Cal needs to eat more," he murmurs, "Too thin."

"I'll stuff him soon enough, " you answer, switching off the light and sitting on your bed, reaching out to pat him on the back, "Aren't you going to move up, Eridan?"

"Soon," he whines, shifting a little to give you more room, face buried in Cal's torso. You're a little disturbed that he might make the puppet smell of alcohol as well, but you lie down anyway, sighing. As if on reflex, he reaches out to touch your face, sidling up to lie next to you, Cal pressed to his chest, face beside yours. You sigh under his touch, your own hand rising to touch Eridan's cold fingers, quirking an eyebrow at him.

Eridan smiles, and you had to smile back. "Dirk," he whispers, as if he spoke too loud your name would escape from his lips and away from him forever, "Dirk, wwhy aren't wwe a thing?"

"You know why," you answer him just as quietly, sliding a thumb under the palm of his hand and you squeeze.

"Ok. Then wwhy aren't we fuckin'?" he asks again, voice too innocent for the question he's imposing on you. It makes you laugh.

"You know why, too."

Fingers trail over your cheek, along the arch of bone, and they wrap around your own hand, squeezing you right back, "Such a shame." Then he adds quietly, "I can promise I wwon't fall in lovve with you."

You hesitate, thinking the words over in your mind before you decide that you should at least answer him with the truth, "I don't think I could do the same, Eridan."

Eridan looks at you in silent surprise, and you return his gaze because you're not sure what's going to happen if you look away. He doesn't question you. His gaze eventually drops and he lifts himself up from Cal, stretching slightly, then rolls his shoulders. "I should sleep up. My eyes are closin' themselvves."

"Good. Don't make me wake you up too many times."

He smirks a little, before leaning down for you. You could actually feel his breath against your cheek but then he stops; you sense a frown; and then he's leaning away again, making a face, "I reek. Of booze. Later, then." He makes a move to get off your bed and you decide to fuck it all. Grabbing his arm, you pull him back down and you kiss that boy, pressing your lips firmly together.

He was right. He does reek of alcohol.

After you let him go, he gives you a wistful smile, then moves to climb the metal rungs up to his bed. You could feel his weight shift above you, and it's not really your fault you couldn't wipe the grin on your face.

"Goodnight, Dirk," he says.

"Night, Eridan," you reply.

Things wouldn't be the same after this, you know. But it's okay. It might as well have been the push you needed all along. And now this, you know.


End file.
